𓇼 Sea Ya⋅˚₊‧⋆˙⟡ — Luigi Mangione X Reader ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ TWs: Frat Boys™ . Correct
𓇼 Sea Ya⋅˚₊‧⋆˙⟡ — Luigi Mangione x Reader ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ TWs: Frat boys™ . Correct spelling of Hawai'i (Hawaii) . Reader's kinda manic sorry lol . Push And Pull dynamics . Thats it .
When you first moved to Hawai’i, you wanted to escape the loud and obnoxious masses that slowly began tearing holes in your peace's angelic fabric.
You had just graduated college, and with the sudden infiltration of Hawai’i content on your Pinterest board and Instagram explore page, you took one deep breath and fell back onto your bed. The pale white drywall stared back at you, whispering taunts of island life and sweet, succulent sunshine peeking through your open windows at seven in the morning.
Before you traded your life of concrete skylines and endless traffic, you had a love interest…at least you think you did. You had a bit of a push-and-pull dynamic, flickers of fleeting affection sustaining the both of you enough to satisfy the invisible craving.
Your rubber soles would thump and squeak down the halls, fresh rainwater dampening wherever you stepped as your hair suffered from the cost of the heavy shower. To make matters even worse, your roommate sent a text mere seconds prior, telling you to stay as far away from your shared dorm as possible due to the presence of a new…guest.
Great. Fucking, amazing.
You huffed, your soaked beige cardigan dripping the harsh reminders of your circumstances down your wrists as you dropped your hands to your sides. Defeat. Heavy with melancholy and anger, you decided to sit down wherever you were standing.
Your jaw clattered, your sensitive teeth chat-chat-chattering against their upstairs neighbors as you fought off the urge to strip away your winter clothes right there. All you could feel was the hefty load of freezing wool pressed against your chest, adding more weight to the heaviness of your heart.
It wasn’t until you heard a low amalgamation of voices— varying tones and depths rounding the corner as the group dispatched in separate directions, each seeking out the warmth and comfort of their beds after getting caught up in the frosty rain. Some had umbrellas, and some likely forgot theirs early in the morning in a desperate rush to classes.
You paid them no mind, your phone loosely held in your hand as your body shook from the cold’s constant nipping at your skin. It wasn’t until the voices filtered into silence that you realized; a pair of boots had stopped stomping next to you.
You looked up with what you now assume to have been the most helpless look known to man— wet lashes and quivering lips as frostbite possessed your facial features.
“Oh! My god, are you…okay? Where’s your umbrella, you’re soaking…” The stranger said, his eyes mulling over your darkened clothing and how you shivered on the floor.
He was tall with sculpted muscles, the kind that you could almost see through any thick and heavy cotton sweater. He was pale in the face but cupidly at the cheeks, his nose a charming shade of cherry.
“My roommate kicked me out for the night. She’s hooking up with someone and I can’t change because all of my fucking things are in my dorm,” you huffed, trying your best to calm your nerves while you stared up at the man.
“Damn, that sucks…Uhhh,” he began, looking around the empty corridor as if searching for some sort of solution to reach out and grab. “You can come to my dorm if you want. I have a heater and I can give you some clothes to change into. I just don’t want you to catch a cold or anything.”
You thought for a moment— and the longer you seemed to wait, the more your amygdala froze over and rendered itself useless. Everyone who had ever taught you in your life seemed to unite under one common phrase, “don’t follow strangers.”
But you couldn’t sense any malice in his tone. There was no impish malevolence or hellfire in his words that tripped the fire alarm in your brain. So you know what, what the hell.
Sure.
“Uhh…sure. I’m freezing my ass off, that’s so nice of you,” you said, immediately scrambling to your feet. He nodded, a sympathetic smile on his face as he gestured his head in the direction down the hall.
You followed next to him, the icy silence wedging itself between you two with every single step you went without speaking. It wasn’t intentional, you just didn’t know him that well.
“Oh, I’m Luigi, by the way,” he said, giving you a glance with a rather boyish smile.
You nodded, exchanging names and majors with the young man as he told you all about his time in the Levine hall tinkering his life away. His voice carried an air of confidence, his smooth tone glossing over the curves and wrinkles of your mind like warm water.
“But yeah, I’ve been using the 3D printer a lot…been making a lot of little things, so please don’t be alarmed when you see my dorm,” he chuckled. He pulled a keycard from his wallet in his back pocket and slid it in front of the door handle of his dorm.
A tiny beep sounded through the hall, a little green light flashing thrice before he pushed open the sleek metal handle. A gentle gust of warm air welcomed you, followed by the smell of oak wood and the faintest tinge of cologne and aftershave as you stepped into the tiny space.
“Yooo, Pepper,” an unfamiliar voice said, a young man hanging halfway off his bed as his head nearly touched the glossy wooden planks of the floor. “Did you make me my thing?” He asked, his gaze glued to the ghostly hue of his screen.
“Nah,” Luigi chuckled before reaching into his back pocket and tossing a little Perry the Platypus in the direction of his roommate.
“Good looks, man,” the other man beamed, finally turning off his phone and doing a full crunch to sit up on his bed, only to finally see your shivering form standing in the doorway.
“Holy shit, what did you do to her?” He chuckled, his brows shooting up in concern and shock.
“I didn’t do that, I don’t even know what happened,” he explained, shrugging his shoulders with a brief raise of his brows as well. “Her roommate kicked her out so she could get some…interesting moral compass…”
The other man chuckled, a cheeky grin on his face as he turned to face you. “Is your roommate Stacy? Stacy Chin? Like… Five-three, Asian, hair always back in a stupid fucking ponytail?”
You paused, your face contorting into slight confusion as your head tilted to the side.
“Uh…yeah, that’s her, why?” You asked.
“NO FUCKING WAY.” He shouted, letting out a loud cackle that strongly resembled the squawk of a threatened mother goose. “DUDE. Pep, she’s with Henderson!”
“HENDERSON!? OF ALL PEOPLE? HENDERSON?” He gasped, a wide grin on his face as his hands frantically searched each drawer in his shared closet while he joined his roommate in his laughter. “Is that why he’s been ducking us?”
You had never felt more confused in your life. Two young men before you conversed about someone named Henderson, which you presumed was his last name because what mother would name their child such a thing?
“Yo, pneumonia gorgeous, tell your roommate to return our boy, please. He’s missed every single family dinner and keg wars. He’s not being very sigma right now,” he giggled, shooting a glance in your direction with a quick upward nod of his head.
Apparently, your name was pneumonia now.
“Oh I'm sorry, I’m Logan,” He added, a hand over his chest in a momentary pardon before Luigi handed you a rather large monochrome Adidas hoodie and some white gym shorts that were sure to hang off your hips if you didn’t utilize the drawstrings.
You weren’t really sure how to respond, giving Logan a polite nod with a slightly frightened smile. Oh how forward an excited man could be.
“Uh…where should I change?” You asked, glancing around the dorm in frantic search of a bathroom. You didn’t want to walk all the way to the communal bathroom just to change, and it didn’t exactly seem smart to walk all the way around the world with no bag and a handful of sopping wet clothes.
“Maybe in the closet?” Luigi suggested, leaning over slightly and sizing up the remaining space in the small walk-in. When he gaged the available space, he glanced at you, then back and forth between the closet and your form before nodding.
“Sorry about the mess…SOMEONE doesn’t wanna do his laundry,” he hinted, widening his eyes and side-eying Logan.
“Fuck you,” Logan said with a brief flash of his middle finger.
Luigi chuckled, making his way away from the entryway of his dorm and crashing down onto his bed.
“I won’t look, but Logan’s weird, so I can’t promise anything for him…” he joked, laying flat on his stomach with his face buried in his pillows.
You sighed internally, retracing your life choices and trying to figure out what led you to slum it out with two strangers in their dorm room while you changed in their raggedy old closet. It was dark and faintly smelled of cologne and marijuana, but you were grateful to finally peel the layers of freezing-cold clothing off of your body.
When you emerged from the dark closet, a pile of clothes in your hands, the first thing you did was step further into the dorm, standing in the good-sized gap between Logan and Luigi’s bed.
“Do either of you guys have like, a plastic bag for me to put these in? I have no idea how long Stacy’s gonna take,” you sighed.
“Don’t worry, it’s Henderson. Knowing him, you’ll be back in your dorm in under thirty seconds” Logan laughed.
“Ignore him, he’s evil,” Luigi giggled, shushing Logan briefly before turning over and sitting up, grabbing a UPenn canvas tote bag from the leg of his bed’s frame and walking over to hand it to you.
“Thank you,” you smiled, placing your clothes in the rough beige bag.
“No problem. You can stay here for a bit if you want, I’m almost so positive they’re going to take…oh my god, they’re gonna take forever,” he sighed, running his hands across his face like he could feel the grey hairs sprouting on his head. “Logan, he’s not gonna be at the bar crawl.”
“This fucker misses EVERYTHING! Pneumonia, PLEASE tell Stacy to release this man’s balls, I’m BEGGING YOU!” Logan shouted, visible distress on his face as he gripped his tufts of brown hair.
You chuckled quietly, their shared sense of agony over one absentee from their planned bar crawl tickled your heartstrings a little. It was so silly in the most unserious way possible.
You got comfy on the floor, your knees meeting your chest as you rested your arms around your legs. The steady warmth of their dorm helped bring feeling and comfort to your numb skin— coziness washed over you as you patiently waited for Stacy to text you the signal that it was okay to come back in.
While you sat on the floor, you examined Luigi’s side of the room. Littered with 3D-printed figures ranging from Pokemon to random shapes, his desk looked exactly like what you would imagine some sort of geek would have.
Organized, tidy, and almost completely clear with the exception of a pair of browline glasses, a few stray papers, and a little Breloom figurine. How cute.
The room was quiet except for the steady hum of the old heater, working double-time to pump a steady flow of heat into the shared space. You hummed to yourself, letting time pass you by as you scrolled on your phone.
An hour turned two, and two turned three as you slowly relaxed more and more on the floor. 7:37 at night.
Ding!
‘ ok ur good he just left ‘
“That’s Stacy. Bye, guys! Thanks for letting me stay, I was literally gonna die out there” you chuckled, standing straight up and waving to each of the frat brothers. They waved their goodbyes in return, Luigi paying just a little bit more attention compared to Logan before you closed the door behind you, listening for the electronic whirr of the lock.
And that’s how you met Luigi. While your first impressions of each other were equally strange, neither of you seemed to really stick it to the other whenever you crossed paths.
And after a while, you slowly started to orbit each other a little more. Anytime Stacy found herself tangled up with ”Henderson”, who you now learned to be James, you’d go knock-knock-knocking on his dorm door with a heavy sigh of resignation.
At some point, he grew to expect your presence at least 4 times a month. As Stacy and James grew closer, so did you and Luigi.
But you never really seemed to get closer beyond that.
There was a thick and impenetrable wall between the two of you, one that seemed to only come down when monitored by the presence of his frat brother Logan. You had grown close enough to sit at the foot of Luigi’s bed, legs crossed in tense modesty as you chatted back and forth about your day.
There was an occasional shift in the energy, where you’d sometimes lay next to Luigi while he showed you something on his phone. Sometimes, after he showed you whatever it was he wanted to, you’d stay shoulder-to-shoulder with him under his blue blankets and talk about your philosophies and plans for the future.
A veterinarian, a computer scientist, building gag robots for another pro-capitalistic ride at Disney, a manic artist wielding a paintbrush to the mirror where a gun would inevitably be…whatever seemed to cross your mind at the moment.
There were moments when everything felt all too intimate to be casual. The days when Stacy and James decided to make the most of their alone time, banishing you to the outdoors until the wee hours of the morning.
It was those days when you laid with Luigi, your backs pressed together while your heartbeats thumped as one. All the angels rumored to inhabit heaven seemed to have all eyes on you as your silent snores filled the room, your comfortable breathing serving as a bittersweet reminder that this would all be over in the morning.
And then you’d be back to push.
You had completely different majors, so you didn’t really share any classes with him. And if you did happen to see him in the halls or around campus, it was nothing much more than a brief smile and a wave before both of you scurried off to wherever it was you needed to be.
However, there was a time in which the wall between you and Luigi came crumbling down with the weight of a strange tension that lingered in the air.
It was a warm spring evening, the kind where bugs began to crawl and creep around every crevice of the world in an effort to indulge themselves in all the sunshine and pollen they missed during the winter. Spring break prepared to rear her floral features, taunting your exhausted mind with her fleeting touch.
You sat in Luigi’s dorm for what felt like the thousandth time that year, your ass flat on the ground in your pink Lulu shorts and white fitted Bebe tee. You fidgeted with one of Luigi’s fidget toys absentmindedly— some sort of multi-buttoned cube— while you talked about your plans for after graduation.
“I don’t know…I think once I graduate I’m getting the fuck out of here for a bit. I've been trying to go out of state…Philly’s getting old” you sighed.
“Philly? You think Philly’s boring? Something happens here like every other day,” he chuckled, his brows pinching together slightly.
“Well, when you’re in the same area like every single day, any city can get boring,” you shrugged.
He nodded, immediately understanding where you were coming from after you clarified. He glanced over at you, watching as you leaned against Logan’s bed in his absence.
“Climb up here, please. Logan’s got some stuff under his bed that I don’t want you to see” he pleaded, gesturing toward his bed.
“At least buy me a drink first” you huffed sarcastically, rolling your eyes before making your way over to Luigi’s bed.
“I’d totally buy you a drink” he chuckled, watching as you laid down on your stomach at the end of his bed.
“I think I’d approach you at a bar…I dunno I’d probably be not sober,” you chortled quietly.
“So you’d have to be drunk to get with me? Ouch, you’re so kind!” He fake gasped.
“Nah. I’d do it sober. Dry levels of soberness. Fifteen years sober” you joked, raising your brows briefly, partially involuntary on your part.
Body language is stupid.
He chuckled, higher than normal. It almost sounded like a girlish giggle— one you’d expect to hear from a girl nervously chuckling at a sweet comment from her high school sweetheart.
“You’d hook up with me?” He asked a tone of sincerity with a hint of something else you couldn’t quite place.
“Well…” you began, propping yourself up on your elbows, your beaded bracelets and bangles clinking and twinkling with your movements.
“You don’t seem like a hookup guy. You’re more like a lover-boy,” you explained, your fingertips gently tracing the outer shell of your ear as your stomach suddenly knotted itself.
“Really?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.
You nodded, sitting up straight to crack your back and stretch your arms.
“I wouldn’t do you like that. You’re much too thoughtful and good to be a one-and-done.”
Hearing you say that almost frightened him. Butterflies erupted in his stomach, the fluttery friends impeding his brain receptors from forming a response as his cheeks went light pink. It was a good thing the sun became more common in the spring, if this had been winter, he was sure his pale complexion would have given him away immediately.
“That’s actually…so sweet, thank you,” He stammered, suddenly feeling extremely warm.
“Yeah, for sure,” you smiled, meeting his eyes briefly before shuffling your legs under you, shifting a little closer to him in the process.
When you met his gaze again, it was like the brown eyes of Mother Nature were staring back into yours. Deep, warm, onyx voids of emotion searching yours as your hearts made futile attempts to beat out of their rib cages.
Closer. Closer. Come here, I just want you closer.
Come closer. Kiss me, I promise I won’t fuck it up.
Can I?
The way your minds seemingly connected to one another was almost spiritual— communicating back and forth like they were from the same consciousness.
“Pepper!! Good news, David said he’d get us a keg”
You nearly jumped, making a conscious effort to not seem surprised as Logan suddenly swung the front door open, effectively cockblocking you two.
“Oh…nice,” Luigi said, glancing at you briefly with slight guilt and worry. Like the word was imprinted on his eyes, you caught it like a softball.
Sorry.
And that was the last time you ever managed to get that close to Luigi again.
Now you were on your own, far out in the Pacific on the little island of Hawai’i. You still clutch your beige canvas tote bag, a painful reminder of your own failure to speak up in your college years.
It had since been painted over— raspberry-tinted hibiscuses accompanied by slate blue foamy waves. Inside carried your multi-button fidget cube, pressing and clicking each button as you stood on the sandy beach in the early mornings.
Like now. You finished up the last of your spam musubi, letting the salty and tangy flavor of the soy-glazed spam fill your mouth long with the soft white rice.
The nori crunched under your teeth, buckling under the gentle force of your jaw as you finished the remainder of your breakfast. As you walked the expanse of the white and sandy beach, kicking up sand along the way, you decided to stop for a moment and sit down.
The quiet crash of the waves filled your ears, the salty breeze kissing your waterline slightly as you watched the sunrise. You hummed to yourself, swaying side-to-side absent-mindedly as you tuned out your surroundings.
If you were paying attention, you would have heard the sounds of a morning jogger approaching your form. If you were paying attention, you would have realized how familiar the man looked as he began to fade into view.
“Oh shit,” Luigi murmured, stopping in his tracks and pointing at you like a shiny Pokemon in the wild. “I know you!”
You looked up, your brows furrowing slightly at the sudden statement. You felt it before you heard it; the familiar pull on your heartstrings as Luigi slowly approached you.
Your eyes met his, a silent smile spreading on your face as you got on your feet again.
“Hey!” You beamed, unsure of whether or not to pull him into a hug. After all, he was shirtless and panting, a clear indicator of just how long he had been outside running.
He smiled back at you, his strong and soft-looking chest rising and falling with every breath. “Hey! It’s good to see you!”
“It’s good to see you too,” You nodded, immediately digging through your tote bag to find the little fidget toy you had kept years prior, presenting it before him with a cheesy smile. He looked at it with a surprised smirk, a wave of nostalgia washing over him as he gently picked up the fidget toy between his pointer and thumb.
“Oh, so it was you,” he chuckled, his thumb running over the various buttons before he carelessly shoved it into the side pocket of his swim trunks.
“Yeah, sorry…I literally just forgot to put it down,” you sighed.
“I figured it was something along those lines…don’t worry I wasn’t mad. I was actually happier you had it versus someone else, I knew I’d get it back eventually” he smiled, brows pinching together directly after as he whirled his head around his surroundings.
“…Just not in Hawai’i.”
You laughed, giving him an apologetic nod as the warm air prompted the both of you to release all your unspoken emotions. Hardships, hassles, anger, pain, regret, and frustrations all seemed to bubble over the surface as you began to walk down the beach together.
It was just like three years ago— spending your days in his compact dorm with the company of another man you had since forgotten the name of. With Luigi, it seemed as if neither of you could keep your mouth shut for more than five minutes.
Gentle, and deep conversations, the kind where one would normally be post-breakdown or manic to let these kinds of thoughts slip out unprovoked. Maybe it was the steamy grains of sand under the soles of your feet, the gentle massage prompting you to release the pent-up stress and trauma you’d accumulated over the years.
Or maybe it was just Luigi, who despite the awkward and what should have been alarming circumstances of your first interaction, always reassured you.
“So how’s your time been in Hawai’i so far? You said you were here for a vacation, right?” You asked, gently wondering what the fuck he was doing on the coast of Honolulu.
“I had a spine injury a couple months ago…and it pretty much just made my spine worse than it already was. But I kinda just wanted to come here to heal,” he shrugged, his thumb pressing each button on the fidget cube ritualistically.
“White boy comes to an island to heal!? Where have I heard that before…” you joked, pretending to cross your arms and think hard about this new information.
“Stop it, stop it,” he giggled, shaking his head in faux disapproval. “It’s not like that I promise.”
He took your wordless and slightly smug nod as he used that time to take in your appearance after all these years. Still the same young woman, but matured with time like a fine and fruity glass of wine.
Sunkissed skin, freshly sprouted faint freckles on your arms, and a little calmer compared to your time at university. He was glad that after the hell you both endured in college, you were able to find somewhere that made you happy.
“Oh, by the way,” he began, his hands coming up to his temples as if his train of thought had just stopped off at the correct station. “I was gonna go get some fruit and poké later. I’d appreciate it if you came with me.”
You paused, that familiar warmth spreading to your face as you turned around to look at him.
“Sure, yeah, that sounds nice.”
More Posts from Nirvvbain and Others
𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒊'𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 (𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖) - 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟐
(part 1 here)
(4,543 words)
summary: smut. filthy, fucking smut.
𝗍𝗐: 18+ !! 𝗀𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒, 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖽𝗈𝗆!𝗅𝗎𝗂𝗀𝗂, 𝗌𝗎𝖻!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋/𝗌𝗎𝖻!𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖽𝗎𝖻𝖼𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗎 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗍, 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗁 + 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗏, 𝗇𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗌𝗆 𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗂𝖺𝗅, 𝗆𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗌𝗆𝗌, 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝖾, 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄
~
"We're going to play a little game, pretty girl." Luigi is still fucking the length of the gun into you, pushing down into the small of your tiny back with delicious pressure and you're finding yourself all the more happy to comply.
"Mm-mhm." You're fighting back every urge telling you to push your ass back and make the sensation hit you faster. You heed your caution because if you don't, you know Luigi would be pretty upset and he'd hurt you.
Maybe you wouldn't mind, but right now, all you cared about was taking what he was giving.
"I'm gonna talk about my favorite memory of you," he starts to twist around and you feel the ridges of the gun running over the sensitive flesh inside and you let out a cry. It evokes a hard and extremely painful slap.
"Don't interrupt me bitch." He leans forward to bite into your ass and you both moan, the plush skin creating mutual pleasure. You nod your head before he pulls his teeth off. "When I do talk, you're going to tell me exactly what happened. Okay? You can make a sound baby." He pulls the gun out and says the last few words into your ear, letting his fingers dip inside this time.
"Okay Lu." You bite your lips naturally, letting your eyes roll back and soak the pleasure of his fingers curling inside, far more dynamic than the gun could ever be. Humming in satisfaction, he speaks.
"December 1st. We had a call together to talk about-" he stops, pulling you back closer to his body but he does it with the fingers inside of you and it's so humiliating. You let out a sob, shoving your fist into your mouth to compensate for the pain. "That hurt." You whine because it's so natural so natural that it would hurt. Luigi lets out a laugh before speeding up the pace of his fingers, watching you shiver as you're seeing colors before your eyes.
His free hand comes up to slap your ass before giving it a hard squeeze. You let out a concerning yelp, feeling the already stinging skin get kneaded and pulled in every direction his fingers so dictate. You let out a drawn, nasty sound that Luigi nearly moans in approval of.
"Yeah, I like that sound. Wanna hear ya in m'fuckin pain baby." Luigi feigns desire in his voice, drawing out the words so that every single syllable is trickling down like feather light touches teasing your skin.
He succeeds.
"We had a call to talk about my graphic. You remember what you were wearing that day pretty girl?" His fingers are twisting inside, brushing against the spot with every pump but the pace becomes torturously slow, as though he's giving you space to think. It does little to help but you race to gather yourself from mentally crashing to pieces, thinking back to this said day.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥
"Hey Luigi." You pick up the call, expecting to continue your usual discussions about the graphic he had worked on since it was the most difficult. At this point, you were already living up every single moment your eyes could land on Luigi. Perhaps, you were trying a bit too hard.
You wore a pair of silky pajamas that were light green. The straps of the top were thin - spaghetti, essentially, and stuck to your skin as it cropped half-down your torso. Your shorts were high rise and decorated with delicate lace at the edges towards the bottom. In truth, it was after hours and usually, nobody had formal calls during this time. You had changed into your clothes much earlier at that point and chose this set, keeping it far back in your mind that you'd have a call with Luigi later.
It was sure to draw his attention because your lined bra made itself known, poking curvaceously through the fabric telling those who dared to look that there was something underneath. You lived alone, so normally, you didn't care.
But today, you cared only because Luigi would see and that care only made you pull the top down to complement the natural seg-way into your chest. That care made you make yourself an exhibit you hoped he'd appreciate.
Luigi stared for a second as you watched his eyes drag up and down once across the screen before he gave you a smile, responding at once.
"Hi. How could my poor self help you?" Luigi asked mockingly and you furrowed your eyebrows then, wondering where the comment came from but giving him the same energy back. "Give me some riches in the form of explaining your graphic? I didn't know I was as rich as you're making me out to be." You responded but then, you see your face freeze, letting you know that the audio likely must've frozen for Luigi too.
No mind, since everything resumed as normal in less than a second but Luigi's expression seemed to tell you something is wrong.
"What'dya say?" Luigi asked, tilting his head and letting his eyes project somewhat of a siren-like, overtly-focused stare on you. You gulped before answering in confusion.
"Jus' said you could give me riches by explaining your graphic and that I didn't know I was as rich as you were making me out to be." You answered unsurely but caught the way his face slightly fell towards the end of your sentence. His next few words seemed to explain why.
"Ah," Luigi starts, rolling his eyes before letting out a sigh. "I thought you said 'making out' and it did something to me for a second." Luigi laughs, but it sounds huskier, like there was more to the sentence he dared not say.
Your heart lurched at the idea but it was so out of place that you forced yourself to move on and just chuckle.
"Well, even if I had said so, you'd have to be here. I'm not so rich I could make a computer to stick a hand through and reach the other side." It was a stupid, convoluted joke that you rambled just to make the atmosphere lighter but that didn't seem to work, since Luigi's stare had only hardened more on you.
"Your top says otherwise. I love the silk on you." You're taken aback but you don't let it show, simply letting your fingers run their course from the straps and down to your stomach, which he couldn't see. Part of you suspected about whether his eyes had followed too, having noticed a slight shift in their focus.
You change the topic because this... this all came later.
But you certainly wouldn't forget.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥
You gasp, feeling yourself reaching the point where you just had to let go. His pace had increased, aligning with the increasing impatience as you hadn't given an answer.
"If you don't answer, I'm not letting you cum." Luigi says, cruelly laughing as he heard you whine loudly and clenching around his fingers.
"L-Light g-green -ah!" You want to finish your sentence but the pleasure breaks through a new roof and you're so dangerously close to cumming. "P-Please Lu I wan-wanna cum." You beg without any inhibitions and he pumps even harder.
"Dumb slut can't even finish her sentences can she?" It's a matter of less than ten seconds and he drives his fingers in as far as he possibly can and you let out a scream, moaning ngh ngh ngh in the same tune as his fingers fucking you.
You hope he'll let you get away with it because there was no humanly possible way any understandable words were going to come out of your mouth. The pressure on your walls finally breaks.
"G-Gonna cum." You say in the loudest voice possible, unable to keep it down even on request because of how good you felt and finally, he pulls his fingers out.
And when he does, you bite your bottom lip hard, feeling a sob escape from your throat as you clench around nothing. The pleasure that was so close to pushing you over the edge rescinds its ministrations, settling to the usual arousal that you had started with. Your hands bunch up the sheets you're laying on as you're openly crying, babbling and asking how? why? I wanna cum! oh so shamelessly.
"Didn't finish your sentence. Stop fucking crying." Luigi gives a slap to your cunt and you fall forward, sobbing quietly into the sheets before a hand pulls your hair back.
"Said stop f'ckin cryin' little cunt." Luigi gives another slap, this time landing straight on the pleasurable nub and you moan through the last cry you let out, panting and whining quietly as his grip on your hair tightens. "Save those tears for when I split you open baby." Luigi lets go, watching your head fall onto the bed and bounce as you lie there, helplessly waiting for him to use you. The ruined orgasm only makes you more restless, but you're forced to wait.
"Dya remember what ya wore?" Luigi asks, taking off your panties off, sick of keeping the gusset aside before quickly flipping you around so you're facing him. You scramble and cover your face, embarrassed at the way you knew you would look like in that moment, but he grabs them both before pinning them above you, licking a thick, wet stripe from your neck and into your mouth, devouring every single inch inside. The wetness makes you clench and he can tell, his bulge pressing against you between your legs.
"Tell me. Tell me if you want me to fuck you with this cock." Luigi says, unbuckling his jeans and your mouth nearly waters, surely to let drool spill if your head was turned either side. You nod before swallowing the spit, forcing yourself to focus and ignore the sensations of his dick and fingers touching you.
"Wore my light green p'jama set Lu." You speak in a disgustingly sweet voice, eager to please him as he takes in a deep breath, smiling while he exhales. "My pretty girl. You remember, huh? Good girl," he stops to take his cock out, hitting it against your stomach before he bends over and grabs your face with his other free hand.
"You want a reward for that? You want me to give you a treat for answering m' question?" Luigi shakes your head side to side and you feel the pressure of his fingers digging your soft flesh into your teeth and it really fucking hurts. Nevertheless, you're his pretty, slutty girl.
So you nod.
"Uh-huh." You answer, the best sound you're able to get across your forcibly puckered lips. He leans forward, grinding his cock painfully against the opposing curve of your sensitive cunt which makes you mewl, squirming against his towering figure. "Fuckin' words bitch. Use your fuckin' words." Luigi commands you with a mocking tone, pressing harder into your face. You eyes crinkle, like you're going to cry again because you couldn't. It was so hard to get words out when he was just fucking your face up with his fingers like this but you don't let yourself cry.
"Wan' a-mm- rewa-mm." You try your very best, watching Luigi's chest tighten as he coos. He leans back and lets go of your hands, which you keep there even after he stands back. You watch, admiring him in his full glory. His cock is standing up straight between his legs, deep red from restraining himself for so long and all he does is pull a chair from behind him, sitting down.
You sit yourself up on the bed, half naked as your top is still on. Your legs dangle over the edge as you stare at him unsure of what to do next. Your eyes are threatening to look to the side and look at his gun, but you don't dare to move your sight away. Your eyes were for his body only.
Nothing else.
"Top off." Luigi is curt, speaking with a rough voice and you get the sensation like he'd just rammed his length into you, fumbling and shaking to pull your top off which you finally manage. All that's left on your is your bra. A push-up, specifically, which is hiking your breasts up a half-inch higher. The padding is useless in hiding your hardened nipples, which his eyes are staring at.
You open your mouth to speak but his eyes immediately shift to yours, and you shut them instantly before a sound crosses and makes its way out.
"C'mere. No sounds." Luigi addresses the concern you had of voicing a question, which you now know not to ask since he just answered it for you. You stand up, shaking and playing with the hair strands that sit beautifully on your neck and breasts before you take a single step.
"Crawl." Luigi says, smirking at your reaction afterwards. Your eyes go wide and you feel humiliation cloud your conscience. Fuck, you barely knew this man but everything he said, everything he did made you want to obey because he knew best. He dominated you like he knew exactly where to hurt and help you because he knew.
You were just his dumb, little baby.
But something was far too humiliating about this. So you shake your head slowly, increasing the pace the angrier he got. You weren't trying to get him angry, you were just so embarrassed. Poor little thing.
But Luigi didn't have the same patience with you.
"No?" Luigi asks, giving you a single warning in his question. You stare at the orbs in his eyes, shaking even more as you so badly wanted to listen but couldn't handle the thought he'd make you crawl. You do what you shouldn't, shaking your head yet again.
He runs a hand through his hair before standing up and bending down to pick up his belt. You swallow, eyes widening even more as your they darted between him, his belt, and your feet. You keep your neck facing down before his fingers softly touch your shoulder.
You yelp and you realize that's a mistake because that hand freezes before coming up and giving a hard slap across your face.
His face is perfectly calm, like he hadn't done a single thing but this time, you can't stop the glossy eyes that stare at him. He uses his other hand, dragging the leather of the belt up your body and you slightly lean into him after every curve he hikes it over.
"I'll help you crawl baby since you wanna be such a little bitch, okay? Lu's gonna help you baby he's gonna help his brainless little bitch." Luigi whispers into your ear with a softness that entirely juxtaposes his words and you have nothing to do other than nod, gasping once the belt curves around your neck.
He steps back before pulling the length through the buckle. He stops, staring at your features which are looking back at him in fear, confusion, and arousal. The innocence and desire in your face are so pure he can't help but scare you more and more.
it takes less than a second before he snaps and pulls the belt so fast and so hard, you're choking in an instant. Like an expert, he places the small wedge through the hole which would keep the belt around your neck as tight as possible, giving less-than-needed wiggle room for you to breath.
He steps even further back before jamming his fingers between the belt and your neck, using space that doesn't exist before pulling you to the ground. You choke, falling to your knees, before coughing repeatedly. He's still standing and you realize how small you are in comparison to him. Your eyes helplessly glaze over the toned hamstrings that arch beautifully into his cock, which he's slowly running his hands over. Your breathing is rapidly increasing as you blink, trying to find a way to force the air down but you can't help but watch his abdomen tighten and squeeze in relation to his movement up and down his length. He lets his fingers slip out and grab the extra belt leather that was making the entire set-up akin to a leash, pulling it and what do you do?
You crawl like he had asked, breasts swinging side to side with every movement. You stopped once he let go, kneeling and exuding submission with every curve of your body.
"Open your mouth." Luigi says quietly but you freeze. Your neck was already restricted and now you had to take his cock? You stare, gulping at the thickness and realizing it was going to press hard against the belt around your neck. You gasp, shaking your head but he doesn't listen, placing the tip at your lips.
The precum has a distinct taste, which you gag at but still position yourself for perfectly, arching your back just enough.
"You're gonna take it anyway. If you ever say no again, I'm gonna leave okay sweetheart?" Luigi uses a cunning, manipulatively sweet voice and you, even worse, fall for it, nodding slowly as your lips lightly run over the tip, making him groan.
He pushes in at once, making you lurch back but it doesn't matter, because his hips come in to use that distance, now letting his cock abuse your throat. You feel its ridges abusing the soft flesh inside as he pulls back all the way.
His tip is at your lips again and you instantly cough, gag even, due to the force and he smiles, letting his finger rub your cheeks. He doesn't care though, because he forces himself back in and starts rocking his hips, drinking in the sounds of struggle that you make and adoring the squelch from your lips.
"F-Fuck baby. This is exactly what I wanted to do to you on call," he falters in his voice at first, but later becomes steady in his hips and words. His volume is even, like he isn't obliterating your throat right now. It's like his ears are deaf to the moans, the struggles, the deep-throated noises he's fucking both into and out of you. "I saw your bra poking up out of your silky fucking crop. I saw the way you were pulling it down every now and then. You wanted me to see. You wanted my hands on your tits," Luigi stops, bending down to grab a breast and slap it from below. It stings from the force and you lean forward, letting his cock settle farther into your throat.
"You were such a little exhibitionist the entire time and that's when I knew," Luigi continues pushing his hips harder and harder, the squelches and sounds becoming more distinct as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. "I had to do everything I could to get my hands on you and use you like the fucking rag you were. Fuckin' slut." His hand comes down, slapping you whenever the pleasure was exceptionally good, releasing the tension all across your body and skin.
"Touch yourself." Luigi whispers, not letting his voice shake despite how good you're doing. "I hacked into your computer and I got everything. I found every single call you had with every single person and your texts." He stops, smirking when he watched your fingers struggling to move around because of the force of his hips. He extends his foot forward before saying ride me softly and you immediately set your cunt down on his foot, humping them without any qualms and taking him deeper, feeling pride swell at the way his body was reacting.
"I heard you fucking yourself with those beautiful fingers, moaning my name. You're so fucking beautiful but," Luigi finally can't stop himself, letting his breaths get ragged as he got close. It definitely helped to hear you gagging, suffering under him. "If you ever try to leave, or mm- escape m-me, FUCK-" he falters before flexing his entire body, steeling himself before he cums. "If you ever try to leave I'll hurt you. I'll hurt you so bad you'll forget your name and chant mine like a fucking prayer."
His words are sick and twisted, but they ignite a new wave of pleasure that crashes so hard against your walls, you can't help but cum. He snickers, watching your eyes rolls back while whining, having to manage the feeling of him down your throat.
"You fucking like that. You like it when I control you baby? Huh? Fuckin' nasty aren't you? G'na fuckin' cum. Fuckin' swallow - fuck." Luigi slows down, stalling in your mouth before pulling out and letting himself spill all over your tongue. The white pearls shoot out, coating your tongue and you stare up at him, hair matted with sweat and eyes glossy from his brutal assault, but the hot, pulsing core of pleasure and arousal never dies down as your body keeps craving more of him.
Luigi pulls your jaw down before swiping his tongue inside, swallowing you while you swallow him. His fingers roam the rest of your body while you devour each other before he rubs his fingers on your clit. It's too fucking much and you can't handle it, but he places you still, one hand on your waist and hips while the other is pleasuring your overstimulated cunt.
Luigi snickers before he stops, watching you shiver and hug yourself, trying to cope with how everything feels. He grabs your neck, pulling you up like a limp rope and you grab the bed behind you before obeying, knees shaking and unable to hold your own body. "Ass up and face down. Gonna fuck you stupid baby." Luigi pushes you down into the bed, hand in your hair before he rubs his tip on your slick cunt, moaning himself at how desperate you were. "Your body was made for me and I'm gonna use it and you know what you're gonna do baby?" He pulls your head up, expecting an answer. You savor the pull, loving the pain coming from the strands of hair straining against your scalp.
"Gonna fuckin' take it." You reply, moaning when he pulls your hips and shoves himself inside, a movement done all at once and taking you through and back several stages of shock, pain, and pleasure all at once. The scream he provokes out of you makes him harden more, as you feel the curves of him settling inside you with greater opposition. In response, you clench.
"Fuck me Lu, fuck me fuck me fuck me-" you babble repeatedly and he does. He fucks you, matching the pattern of your chants and it feels like heaven, and true to his word, it feels like he's splitting you open. Exposing all your vulnerabilities.
He's tearing you to the very pieces you were most certainly made from.
He flips you around while he's still inside of your cunt before leaning down, hands on either side of your head before he jackhammers himself inside, drilling into you and you can feel cries of pleasure flowing out of you with fire and fury.
"Mouth." He says, and you instantly know what to do. You let your lips part, moaning un-ceased, before he's swirling his tongue around and he spits inside. Your eyes widen in response, aided by the particularly magnificent thrust which forces tears to your eyes, ones that he watches cascading down your pretty face. A hand comes to swipe away before he takes a taste, licking the same fingers.
"You taste and look good when you cry f-fuck baby." He stops before straightening out his back and pulling you closer, pushing himself deeper inside. It sends you screaming, back arching, letting your breasts present themselves to his lips, spilling out your bra which he rips off of your body. You gasp but get distracted at his coming moves.
He takes the opportunity to suck and kiss around the buds, not quite touching you where it matters most despite his sinful tongue just millimeters from them. It prompts you to beg, instead.
"Please Lu, fuck please suck on 'em please." Your voice is cracking, the pleasure making you sob your words out and he's so driven to make you feel good that he simply obliges, unable to stop the desire when he hears your pitiable and fuckable lips beg him so helplessly.
His teeth are kind, pulling and biting just enough to make you squirm, making the orgasm catch up with you fast. "Ever gonna leave me baby, hm?" Luigi asks, slowing down but aiming his thrusts, desperate to make you unravel beneath him. You shake your head, screams and sobs intertwined as you repeat yourself: no no no no no and Luigi nods in response before you stutter, voice all high-pitched and nearly squealing.
"Can I cum Lu can I can I can I- ngh - lemme cu-" for which he cuts you off, biting and pulling on a free bud and the agony of feeling your breast stretch away from your chest, dancing to the moves of his neck makes your toes curl as you scream his name, shaking violently around his cock.
His hands come down to your waist to keep you in place as you grab the sheets randomly, crying and sobbing, tasting your own tears on your tongue which he never misses a chance at tasting himself as he gives your cheeks a light slap before savoring your salty tears himself.
"My turn." Luigi stares into your eyes, before grabbing the belt that was still around your neck and drilling himself into you, and you realize you just might pass out.
You beg and beg, telling him it's too much.
"'S too much Lu-" You're wailing, but something about the way he takes you makes your body put up a fight and take what he's giving because it just feels too good.
Luigi, on the other hand, enjoys all of this. He wants to make the pleasure hurt. He wants to watch how pleasure makes you shiver and break down into your smallest, most vulnerable pieces. And that's exactly what he was doing and was planning to continue doing.
"Don' fuckin' care. Your tiny fucking cunt is leaking f'me. Gonna take it." Luigi grinds down into you at the end of the sentence and you're babbling, making incoherent sounds, thrashing on the bed. The sight makes him want to drown in this moment and relive it as much as he can. His hand free hand slides up to your mouth, shoving the fingers inside and he knows he fucking knows he's using your body to the max.
He gets closer and you can tell by the way his breaths get quicker and his abdomen squeezes, but you're losing focus from the lack of air. Colors are filling your vision but in all of it, you hear his voice.
"You always going to be mine. Physically," He thrusts once.
"Emotionally." He thrusts again.
"Indefinitely." He fucks you particularly hard this time and you feel your body going limp as he groans, cumming inside. You don't care what the consequences are because honestly... you aren't going to be awake by the time you find the ability to do so. He pulls out and notices how he's spent all of your energy and sanity.
His fingers trail up your body before threading into your hair, massaging the scalp lightly.
"Sleep tight baby. I'll be right here when you wake up." And that's the last thing you hear before your world goes black.
end.
~
@officialdilfenthusiast @mrsmangione286 @lolololagrey - tagging u cuz u commented or reblogged my first part... hope u enjoyed :)
2x09
girl, idk if you've already posted this one but this guy sounds so much like him it's insane 😫
https://soundgasm.net/u/UrSwitchyBF/Frat-boy-DEGRADES-you-for-not-doing-his-project
GIRL omgggfggggg yes i’m pretty sure i did post that one oh my god it’s one of the best yes yes yes
hold on i think i posted the praises u version but both are so good :) i think that guy has quite a few good audios but i can’t remember exactly
Chapter IV: The Prophecy
“Hand on the throttle. Thought I caught lightning in a bottle, oh– But it's gone again.”
series masterlist previous chapter
pairing: post-prison/ cm: evolution Spencer Reid x BAU AFAB!Reader (I like to think this is where Spencer is during the current seasons.) series synopsis: an unsub with a taste for couples and power imbalances leads Doctor Spencer Reid not only back into the classroom but down the hypothetical aisle with the BAU's newest Probie for an undercover assignment that may change his life. cw: age gap (Spencer is 42, reader is 24 in chapter 1), Use of y/n's (I'm sorry, I know I'm sick of it too.), fake marriage, romance romancing, kisses, and touches but no smut (yet…maybe); Reader is feisty and flirty; Spencer is anxious and has an aggressive outburst; female reader she/her pronouns, and mentions of typical CM violence. wc: 2.5k of conversation and world-building
The drive back to the university was nearly silent, with only the hum of the engine and the rhythmic tap of the rain breaking the tension that still hung in the air from Spencer’s outburst. When they finally arrived home, an unmarked car with government plates was waiting for them.
With a sigh, Y/N moved to open her door, only stopping when Spencer reached out, taking her hand in his. “Wait—” His voice was soft and timid, melting a part of her soul. Her gaze shifted from the waiting officer to Spencer. He cleared his throat, his grip on her hand tightening. “I’m really sorry that I snapped at you. We were having a great night, and I hate that I might’ve made you feel unsafe in my company…”
Y/N’s brows knit together as she shook her head, turning to better face Spencer. Her free hand cupped his cheek as she leaned in, her nose brushing gently against his before their lips connected. “Hey…I could never feel unsafe with you, okay? I understand it’s the job, it’s tough, and it can get to you…but we’ll figure it out. We’re in this together…till death do us part or whatever.” She teased, desperately trying to lighten Spencer’s somber mood.
He chuckled, nodding his head gently against hers. “Yeah…okay.” He kissed her quickly before letting her hand fall away, getting out of the car, and rushing to grab her door for her.
The pair looked a sight—clothes still dampened from their frolicking in the rain, wild curls, and kiss-bruised lips. They looked more like a pair of high schoolers than professionals.
“Looks like you two had a good night,” the agent called, slamming his car door. He looked annoyed, or maybe that was just his face, Y/N thought, observing the new file box securely under one of his arms. “The press finally caught wind of this one; it’ll be all over the 11 o’clock news if you two are too busy…socializing.”
The agent smirked, his eyes raking over Y/N’s body, catching the way her dress clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination.
“I’m going to need you to apologize—” Spencer started, taking a protective step in front of Y/N. She had to admit, the role of husband looked good on him. Her hand gently gripped his bicep, trying desperately to ground him. “Spence—” Her warning tone begged him to stop.
“Come on, bro, be serious. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I mean, good for you, honestly, bagging a newer model?” The agent threw Spencer a wink.
“Newer model—?” Spencer’s brows shot up in disbelief as Y/N snapped, her brows knitting together. Her feet carried her towards the agent, and her fist connected hard with his jaw before she even had time to register what she was doing. She snatched the box and stormed into the house.
“And I look unstable—
Gathered with a coven round a sorceress table.”
“Em, sorry, I punched him. If you get a call saying that one of your agents punched Agent Asshat or whatever his name was, I take full responsibility. Go ahead and write me up.”
Y/N all but yelled into the phone sitting in the middle of the table, a very tired Emily Prentiss on the other end.
There was a muffled yawn from the other end. “Did he deserve it?”
Y/N sighed, “Well—”
“Yes,” Spencer cut her off, returning from the kitchen with a makeshift bag of ice for her hand. “We may have looked less than professional, but that doesn’t excuse his blatant misogyny, nor the way he was practically eye-fucking Y/N on our front lawn.” He huffed, sinking onto the sofa.
“Sounds like he deserved it…” Much to Y/N’s surprise, Emily didn’t sound upset. If anything, their unit chief sounded amused.
“Should’ve seen it, Emily. She would’ve made Morgan proud. I think she might’ve broken his nose,” Spencer chuckled, glancing over at his literal blushing bride with a cheeky grin.
Prentiss laughed. “I don’t condone violence…but good on you, kid. I’ll let you know if I receive that call, but if he’s the jack-off you’ve made him out to be, I doubt he’ll admit to his superiors that a woman broke his nose. Regardless, I won't be writing you up for this.” There was a brief pause, the sound of shuffling papers and drawers closing on Emily’s end. The time difference between Seattle and the District meant it was past midnight.
“You should go home, get some rest, Em. We’ll look over the newest crime scene photos and see if anything stands out. If it does, we’ll let you know. The agent made the comment that the press had the story…so we’ll keep an eye on that as well…”
Emily, ever the workhorse, sighed. “Fine…I’m going to head out of the office now, but as always, call me if you need me or if there are any urgent developments.”
“Have a good night, Em…” Spencer sighed, his head lulling back against the cushion as the line went dead. “How’s your hand?” he muttered quietly as he started unpacking the newest box of evidence onto their coffee table.
“It hurts…” she shrugged, flexing her fingers under the ice pack, “but I hope his face hurts more.”
Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he gazed at Y/N with pure admiration and pride. “Angel, I genuinely think you might’ve broken that idiot’s nose. I can almost—actually, no, statistically, I can guarantee his face will be hurting for a while, especially right now.”
“Pad around when I get home— I guess a lesser person would’ve lost hope.”
The night slipped by, the story was run, and the case stayed the same— unsolved. Nothing particularly groundbreaking was found at the crime scenes, and the MO and victimology were painfully consistent, which left little for Spencer or Y/N to analyze. It was driving Spencer crazy, how after nearly twenty years with the BAU, he found himself genuinely stumped.
In the coming days, everything suddenly became real. After their date, their kiss—it wasn’t just a cover story anymore. Spencer and Y/N no longer felt like characters in a tragic play. They were a couple, who kissed and held hands, who slept in the same bed and talked about their days.
Days turned to weeks, and before they knew it, August had slipped away like a bottle of wine. As the leaves began to change, the lines between reality and their cover began to blur.
For the first time in a long time, Spencer was happy, and content in a life he had always imagined for himself—a wife, a home, a steady schedule. None of it was real, but if only for a moment, it was real to him. His classes ran smoothly, with students who weren’t just there because he had a pretty face—they cared, and it was groundbreaking. The university had even given him a TA to hopefully lighten his workload. She was sweet, not much older than Y/N, but working on a doctoral thesis in his field of expertise. All the pieces of this illusion had fallen perfectly into place.
"Still, I dream of her…"
Spencer woke with a start. He hadn’t had that particular nightmare in years, not since his brain had nearly bled out all those years ago, not since he saw Maeve that one last time. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, his hands blindly searching for Y/N in the bed beside him… and then there she was, groggily furrowing her brows.
She wasn’t lying next to a psychopath in a pool of blood, cold and lifeless at his feet. She was in his bed, in his arms even, tangled in the sheets.
Memories and flashes of that night with Maeve, with Diane—the way she’d touched him, the way Maeve had looked. The cases were different, yes, but something felt very familiar to him. Reluctantly, he pulled himself out of bed, padding into the living room where the coffee table had been overrun by evidence from the newest murder. The body count was up to eight now, four couples, and the press was having a field day with this; they’d named the unsub The Albatross.
“Cautions issued, he stood shooting the messenger. They tried to warn him about her.”
The words danced across his mind, echoing in his ears as Spencer sat on the sofa, his eyes searching the crime scene photos desperately. The MO had shifted with the latest couple; the once precisely slit throats were no more, instead replaced by a single shot through the heart. The couple themselves were the same—an older man and a younger woman. However, with this couple, there had been an incident—a fatal shooting years back involving a stalker. Spencer shuddered at that information, his stomach twisting as he read the original case report.
“Shooting the messenger…” he scoffed, tossing the note back into the pile of evidence. He sat back, his head lolling tiredly against the back of the sofa as his mind worked overtime, assessing the words on the page as well as the previous notes left behind, trying to find any connection, any story or reason to the cryptic poem.
“What’re you doing up…?” Y/N’s sleepy voice caught him off guard. He turned to glance behind him at the half-asleep woman leaning against the hallway wall. “Rolled over and you weren’t there…” Y/N mumbled, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes.
“Couldn’t sleep…” he shrugged, trying to hide the fact that he’d been sleeping just fine—except for the haunting nightmare. He opened his arms for the younger woman, beckoning her to come and sit beside him on the couch. He needed to hold her, to know that she was real, but he wasn’t quite ready to get back in their bed just yet.
After a brief moment of contemplation, Y/N shuffled over, flopping down beside Spencer on the couch, her blurry eyes scanning the photos from the crime scene. She’d seen them earlier before they had inevitably decided to call it a night, but now, something she hadn’t noticed before caught her eye.
Without hesitation, she leaned forward, snatching up the evidence bag that held the latest note, her brow furrowing as she examined the reddish-brown splotches near the edge of the page.
“Is that blood?” she asked, glancing back at Spencer as she handed it to him.
He stared blankly at the mess for a moment before reaching out for an evidence bag that held yet another cryptic poem—though this one was different—if only because he was fairly certain the unsub’s blood had dripped onto it, considering that when the lab had run it, there was no match to any victim.
"Poisoned blood from the wound of the pricked hand."
“Oh—” Y/N shook her head, looking over the victim's hands…not a drop of blood.
“If it’s not from the victim, it’s sloppy…why not start over, why leave a trace behind?” she said softly, fighting a yawn as Spencer nodded slowly.
“It’s almost like she's giving us a clue—”
“She?” Spencer asked, raising a brow. Dr. Spencer Reid was the king of picking out a female unsub, usually long before anyone else on their team. What had she seen that he’d missed? “How do you know it’s a woman? What stands out to you?” Spencer asked, leaning forward on the couch, observing the mess of case photos.
“Well, up until this last set…the husbands' throats are slit, and these notes are placed in their left palms. It’s brutal, but there’s an art to it.” She hummed, sinking back into the plush cushions of the sofa. “The wives, on the other hand, are laid out peacefully in bed with an albatross feather in their hands. It shows remorse—after the fact, the unsub is giving the women the respect that’s deserved…it's a different kind of death for the women."
“Okay, and what do you think the notes signify?” Spencer encouraged, slipping into teacher mode as his own mind raced a million miles a minute, putting together all of the points she’d made against the profile he’d been building in his mind.
“Well, they’ve always been in the left hand…ancient beliefs said the left hand was feminine, while the right was masculine. Other ancient stories point to your left hand being bad luck…which clearly…” she motioned to the gruesome photos before them with a sigh. “In some literary works, the left side symbolizes decay…death.”
Spencer nodded along. He’d already reached his conclusion, put the puzzle together, and built his profile. Now he was left to guide her, wait, and see if the younger agent would find her way to the same conclusion.
“Why slit their throats?” he asked softly, his eyes trained on the younger woman’s features, carefully analyzing every micro-expression he could find.
“Obviously, our unsub believes the husbands took something significant from their wives. The way our unsub is slitting their throats leads me to believe that she thinks it’s their voices or possibly their autonomy…I mean, we’re dealing with older men… I mean, it’s the history of man, right? To use women? Take something so simple but vital,” she said thoughtfully. “But it’s the albatross feather in the woman’s hand…such a heavy symbol, and you said before that the bird is associated with burden and guilt. It feels like the unsub is trying to release the wives from any guilt she believes they’re enduring…she’s just setting them free.”
Spencer nodded. “And this tells you what about our unsub?”
Y/N paused for a moment, thinking over the details before offering Spencer a small shrug and a heavy sigh, “Well, I would say that our unsub is a woman, and these men are surrogates…but she identifies with the wives and feels a need to avenge them.” She glanced up to meet Spencer’s eyes, desperate for the approval of the older agent, which he gave with a small nod, so she continued, “The careful way she arranges their bodies shows she has a sense of empathy… she sees herself in these women.”
“Exactly,” Spencer said with a warm smile. “Why do you think she targets older husbands?”
“She probably has a history with an older man—someone who dominated her or took away her voice. This is her way of reclaiming her power and avenging the other women she sees as victims.” Her voice trailed off, her eyes fluttering between Spencer’s eyes and his lips, as he leaned in to gently press a kiss to her forehead.
“Right…you are one hundred percent correct,” he sighed softly, his eyes raking over her delicate albeit exhausted frame with a frown. “And fortunately for us, this case will still be here when we wake up. Come on, let's get you back to bed…”
With a soft yawn, Y/N nodded, slowly rising to her feet, her hand outstretched for Spencer.
“Come on.”
"But I look to the sky and say
please…"
taglist : @olives-and-sunshine @iniyalovesall @suzysface @guiltyyassin @spencereidbasis @tatilolz @cherrycemeterry @hiireadstuff @r-3dlips @sweetpeterparker @catertotshitposts @purple-flower9 @wonderstruck4llthew4yhome @torturedpoetspsychward @skewedcherries @jackchampiongf13 @bouquetolegoflowers @pleasantwitchgarden @conrad4life13 @jdjwjdjjd @lilyn1909 @liquormoneysex @lynlin379 @imgublergirl
I hope i got everyone! if you’d like to be added to the taglist don’t hesitate to lemme know and as always i’d love to know the thoughts and feelings! So sorry this took so damn long
xo
Spencer Reid Masterlist:
Guide: Smut ●, Angst ☆, Fluff <3
Kissing in the office <3 by @reidalert
Sleepy Needy Spence ● by @nereidprinc3ss
Work call during the act ● by @nevvdrinksteaa
Pregnancy Announcement (sort of) , vol.2 <3
by @pathologicalreid
"I'm not sleeping with Reid" ● by @incognit0slut
Headcannons <3 by @rafesgfs
Well-kept secret ☆ < 3 by @astrophileous
Work place environment by @nereidprinc3ss
Glasses <3, vol. 2 <3 , vol.3 ● by @luveline, @atlabeth and @raekensluver
Falling asleep on his shoulder, vol.2 <3
by @inkdrinkerworld and @bklynsboys
Please don't have somebody waiting for you <3
by @cerisereids
Being a menace, vol.2 <3 (tho it is suggestive kinda) by @in-another-april and @incognit0slut
Comforting him <3 by @little-miss-dilf-lover
Sleep Deprivation <3 by @faunalune
I love this too much ● by @reiderwriter
Sneaking around ● by @nereidprinc3ss
First Time ● by @luveline
Between the books ● by @reidmotif
Whiny and Spoiled ● by @nereidprinc3ss
Hyper Independent <3 by @inkdrinkerworld
New haircut <3 by @inkdrinkerworld
Waking up with kisses <3 by @secretlovezz
No vacancy <3 @kiss-inthekitchen
Reuniting after prison (Hotch!reader) ☆<3
by @pathologicalreid
Being a munch ● by @lis-likes-fics
Me while watching CM ● by @an1t4k
High Heels <3 by @guiltyasreid
Decoy ● by @violetrainbow412-blog
Tech analyst reader <3 by @moonstruckme
Mixed Messages (series) by @easy-there-leftovers
Addicted to you ● @spencerreidenjoyer
Drunk confessions <3 by @nereidprinc3ss
Proposals <3 by @reidmania
Plastic Hearts (Gideon!reader) ☆ by @atlabeth
I might be in love (Prentiss!reader)
by @januaryembrs
This hurts but in a good way ☆
by @aliteralsemicolon
Heavenly sweet ● by @reidsfilm
His hands, vol.2 ● by @raekensluver and @t1red-twillight
Coming home late <3 by @fairysongs
Soft Intimacy <3 by @t1red-twilight
Missed Lunches (Gideon!reader)☆
by @mindfullycriminal
Grounded (Hotch!reader) <3 by @rreids
His kisses <3 ● by @ inkdrinkerworld
Dad!Spence:
Paternity leave <3 by @radiant-reid
Mini Doctor <3 by @reidsdaisies
Hard to say no <3 by @radiant-reid
Lamby goes to work <3 by @cerisereids
Everything in the world <3 by @lis-likes-fics
Daddy's girl <3 by @midniteluv
Toddlerus Interruptus <3 by @reid-fiction
Midnight Scaries <3 by @reid-fiction
Other Masterlists:
Masterlist 1 by @pathologicalreid
Masterlist 2 by @radiant-reid
Masterlist 3 by @slowburningechoes
Note: sorry some of the tags may not work my Tumblr is acting up, also a Spencer Reid shod be posted sometime soon
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3| PART 4
Behind Closed Doors 4
Your frustration over his broken promise melts away as soon as he calls, and you find yourself unexpectedly drawn to his voice, more than you anticipated.
Warnings: (18+, MDNI) Phone sex, mutual (and guided) masturbation, dirty talk ~4.7k words
A/n: this is just me wishing he was on quinn😔 anyway enjoy part 4, this mini series is not dead (i don’t even know how long it will be but let’s just celebrate that I’m finally updating)
All men do is lie, you thought as you flopped onto your bed.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t entirely his fault—but you weren’t in the mood to be reasonable. You remembered that car ride vividly. He had promised you more time together, a moment to finally be alone. Instead, what did you get? A new case, then another, and amidst all the chaos and dodging bullets (literally and metaphorically), you two somehow managed to drift apart.
The past few weeks had been the busiest since you started working at the BAU, and that was saying a lot, considering there was never really a moment of peace when you worked for the government. But this time was different, it seemed even more chaotic than usual. Every time you thought of bringing up the conversation with him—or maybe sneak in a little make-out session—something urgent would come up.
There was never the right time, or the right moment. It felt as if the universe had other plans for you, and none of them involved the two of you getting a moment alone. And before you knew it, you were caught in this maddening cycle of missed opportunities, and the worst thing was, you were sexually frustrated.
This time, you had no one else to blame but him. Ever since he came into the picture, your carefully maintained self-control had started to slip, and now, despite your best efforts, you couldn’t ignore the growing need between your legs. It was aching, throbbing, and even the thought of him was making you hot and restless.
How did he manage to do that? He wasn’t even trying. There was nothing overtly seductive in the way he moved or spoke, and yet every glance, every accidental touch, seemed to affect you. Spencer. Just his name made your breath hitch, your body betraying you. You weren’t proud to admit this, but the mere thought of his fingers brushing your skin had you feeling that first rush of arousal slipping into your panties.
You huffed, considering digging out your pink silicone toy hidden somewhere in your drawer. And while you were contemplating this, knowing it had been a while since you last used it because nothing could compare to the feeling of his touch now, your phone on the bedside table rang.
Maybe the universe was really testing you, because his name flashed across the screen and it took a lot of self-control for you not to pick up on the first ring and demand him to fuck you right there and then, which sounded too crass when you weren’t in the middle of straddling his lap like the last time. So instead, you decided to wait until the sixth ring before you answered with a curt, “Hey.”
There was a pause, then a sigh. “You’re mad at me.”
Could he tell? Of course, he could. He always had an uncanny ability to read you, even over the phone. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”
“I can almost see you rolling your eyes.”
“I never roll my eyes,” you shot back.
“You rolled your eyes last week when Luke tried to tell us that his dog could sniff out bodies better than our trained ones.”
You suppressed a smile, surprised that he even noticed you giving Luke a once-over at that particular moment. “That was because his dog chases its tail more than it chases leads.”
"And I'm not worthy of an eye roll?"
“Honestly, you deserve more than an eye roll,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.
"So you are mad,” he stated, growing quiet for a while. “I’m sorry.”
And now you felt bad. You ran a hand through your hair, trying to clear your thoughts. “It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but it doesn’t make me feel any less better.”
You felt a pang of guilt as you stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t exactly fair to blame him. Serial killers, unfortunately, didn’t come with a schedule, and now Spencer was already on his leave. You recalled the excitement in his voice when he told you about the seminars Emily had arranged for him to teach. He had spoken with an enthusiasm you hadn’t heard in a long time, his eyes practically lighting up every time he mentioned it.
How could you be upset about that?
"I'm not... mad.”
There was a slight teasing note in his voice as he replied, "Just annoyed then?"
You held back a smile. "Maybe a little."
“Anything I can do to help with that?” His voice softened through the phone. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”
Your thoughts immediately went to the sticky situation between your legs, and you felt a flush of embarrassment. Technically, he could help with that. But could you say that? Should you?
"I don’t know, depends on what you have in mind,” you replied, trying to steer your mind away from the direction it was heading. There was a pause, a silence that hung in the air as he carefully considered his next words.
"I could… start by telling you how much I miss you?”
Now that, you didn’t expect. Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest. Spencer had never really acknowledged his feelings with words when his actions spoke volumes, but hearing him say it out loud made the emotions between you feel undeniably real. It was as if his words shattered whatever platonic friendship the two of you had built over the past years.
Although you knew your friendship had fundamentally changed the moment he had you pinned on the desk that fine afternoon, it didn’t stop you from questioning about where you truly stood.
"You miss the idea of me," you corrected him, unable to resist yourself.
“You know that’s not true,” he replied gently.
“Do I?”
“Yes, you know me better than that,” he insisted. “You’re a great profiler, you can tell if I’m not being honest.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, despite trying to stay mad at him. "You hate being profiled.”
"That was before I realized how useful your skills are in deciphering my feelings.”
“You know I’d rather you tell me how you feel.”
“I did, I miss you, and you chose not to believe me.”
Your cheeks actually ached from smiling too much. You couldn’t help but feel a warm, tingling sensation spread through you. “Fine,” you sighed, finally giving in. “I believe you.”
“And?”
You rolled onto your side. “And what?”
“Do you not miss my absence at work?”
“Well…”
“Well?” He prompted.
Now how could you tell him you missed more than just his presence? How could you admit that you missed the way he made you feel, the way his breath felt hot against your skin, without sounding obvious or too needy? Because you missed everything about him. His hands, his lips, his tongue—oh dear god, his tongue.
Spencer suddenly called out your name, and you forced yourself to focus, feeling your heartbeat quicken as you cleared your throat.
“Yes, I—I miss you,” you finally admitted.
There was a pause, then his voice came through, lighter, teasing. “Why do you sound like that?”
“…like what?”
“Like you’re out of breath.”
You gripped the sheets tightly, the fabric bunching under your fingers. How could you even begin to explain this to him now that he was onto you? You felt like you were on the verge of a full-blown emotional meltdown. God, if he knew how many times you’d replayed every kiss, every touch, in your mind, he’d never let you live it down.
It was almost laughable, really. Here you were, trying to keep it together, and failing miserably. “It’s just… I really, really miss you.”
“You really miss me? Are you trying to say something?”
You hesitated, your mind scrambling for the right words without revealing too much. “No…?”
“Mhm,” he replied, clearly unconvinced. “You’re not telling me everything.”
You gripped the phone tighter. “I’m just saying... It's hard without you here. You know, in every way.”
“In every way?”
You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling both embarrassed and mortified. “I just... I miss how you make me feel. Physically.”
“Physically?” he pressed. “Can you elaborate?”
“I’m... you know, I’ve been... missing certain things. Certain... activities.”
“Certain activities,” he repeated your words once again. It was then that you realized he was teasing you, clearly enjoying your discomfort a little too much. “You mean like... talking?”
“No. More like... the other stuff we do when we’re alone.”
"I don't understand."
At that point, your embarrassment was gnawing at you. You wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. “God, Spencer, don’t make me say it,” you groaned, burying your face in your pillow.
“Come on, I need a little more than that.” He sounded both amused and curious. “I’m just making sure I understand you right.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you muttered into the pillow, your voice muffled but still clear enough for him to hear.
“Actually, I don’t think I do. You could be missing so many things, you have to help me out here.”
You turned your head to the side, exasperation coloring your tone. “Spencer…”
"Yes?" he responded innocently.
"You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
"I find precise communication to be very important.”
You let out a groan, feeling the last of your restraint crumble. “Alright! Fine!” you snapped. “I’m horny, okay? And it’s all your fault!”
His laughter rang through the phone, and you could almost see the grin spreading across his face. “My fault?"
"Yes! I feel like a deprived, horny teenager here, and I just…”
You trailed off, hardly believing you had actually said that out loud. The realization hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you wished you could take it back. There was a pause that seemed to stretch on forever and you wondered if you had gone too far.
He finally broke the silence, breathing out your name in a way that made your skin tingle. "You could've told me from the start."
You could, but you’d rather not.
"I didn't want to sound desperate."
"You can be desperate with me,” he said softly. “Just say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.”
If there was one thing Spencer was good at, it was getting under your skin. He really shouldn’t be saying those words, not now, not when it was making you crave him even more. You swallowed, feeling a tightness in your chest, a knot in your stomach. The part of you that always played it safe wanted to retract, to laugh it off as a joke. But then there was that other part, the part that craved his attention, the part that was tired of holding back.
“Tell me, what do you want now?”
You took a deep breath and laid on your back, the words catching in your throat. You felt your pulse quicken.
“I want… you.”
“Tell me how you want me.”
Your fingers trailed over the sheets, your touch light as you imagined it was him beneath your fingertips. “Spencer…”
“Come on,” he pressed. “Tell me.”
You paused, your heart pounding in your chest. You could almost imagine him right in front of you, staring at you with those beautiful brown eyes that always managed to make you melt, coaxing words from you that you barely dared to think, let alone speak.
Just say it. He's waiting. He wants to hear it.
Your hand began to move.
“I… I want your hands on me.”
“Where do you want my hands?”
“Everywhere,” you whispered, your fingers grazing your body as if they were his. You closed your eyes.
“Everywhere?”
You found yourself nodding even though he couldn’t see you.
“On my hips…”
Your hand danced across your hips.
“My stomach…”
Your palm slipped under your shirt, moving slowly up your abdomen, feeling the warmth of your own touch and wishing it was his.
“Between my thighs…”
You paused at the hem of your panties, the only barrier beneath your shirt, hesitating as a flush of warmth spread through you. The line was silent for a moment, save for the sound of his breathing—a soft, heavy rhythm that matched the pounding of your own heart.
“Where else do you want me?”
Your fingers dipped inside the fabric. “I want you lower…”
“Tell me exactly where.”
“Where I’m most sensitive,” you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Your thighs instinctively squeezed together, hips rolling gently as your free hand began to drift south. “Spencer… please…”
“Are you touching yourself?”
“I…”
“Are you?”
“No…”
“Do you want to touch yourself?”
You licked your lips, your breath coming faster. “Maybe.”
“Then do it, no one’s stopping you.”
You hesitated, the reality of the situation sinking in. You couldn’t believe this was happening, that you were having this conversation with him. "This feels so naughty.”
"Naughty can be nice, though, right?" he assured you. "Don't think about it too much. It’s just you and me.”
There really was something about his voice, the way it effortlessly wrapped around you—smooth, coaxing, almost hypnotic. Despite the hesitation that tugged at your mind, your hand began to move lower, and your legs parting involuntarily. A soft gasp escaped your lips when your hand flew right to your pussy, fingers quickly tracing the length of your folds. You were already wet, and you began to spread your arousal towards your clit.
“Spencer…” you whined, feeling the sudden rush of sensations.
“Keep going,” he urged. “Tell me what you feel.”
You closed your eyes. “It feels… good…”
“Describe it to me.”
You took a shaky breath, trying to find the words through the haze of pleasure. “It’s warm and wet… and…”
And you wished he was the one touching you.
You let your mind drift to your fantasy. You imagined it was his fingers circling your clit. You imagined his lips against yours, the way they would move together. You imagined him whispering these words right in front of you, his eyes locked on yours as you writhed beneath him. The fantasy felt so vivid that for a moment, you could almost feel his weight pressing down on you, his presence enveloping you completely.
Your imagination urged you to move faster, but you felt limited by the fabric in the way. You called out his name. “Can I… can I take my, um, underwear off?”
You could almost hear the smile in his voice as he replied, “Of course you can.”
You put your phone down, and with trembling fingers, you slid the fabric down your legs. You discarded them quickly and turned the call to speaker before you settled back on the bed. Your hand returned to your body, fingers brushing over your sensitive skin. You parted your legs even wider, and as your fingers found their rhythm, a moan escaped you.
“Better?”
You sighed in relief as you continued to rub your clit. “So much better.”
“Keep it slow, okay? We don’t want to rush.”
His voice was low and soothing, and you couldn’t believe how just by his voice he had gotten you so worked up.
“Now press a little harder.” You complied, applying a bit more pressure on your clit. "Right there. Do you feel that?"
"Yes," you gasped, your back slightly arching off the bed.
“I wish I could see you right now," he murmured. “I'd kiss you where you're touching.”
You let your imagination take over. You pictured him with his head right between your thighs, his eyes locked on yours with those intense, pretty eyes. You imagined his mouth moving over your clit, sucking gently while his fingers explored between your folds. The thought was so vivid, so real, that you could almost feel his warm breath against your skin.
The mental image of him looking up at you was almost too much to bear. “Spencer…”
"Keep going. Are your fingers wet?" You could simply moan back a reply, not trusting your own voice. “Now slowly slide in one. Can you do that for me?”
You did as he said, sliding a finger into your wetness. You could feel how tight you were, the slick warmth of your arousal enveloping your skin. You looked down between your legs and watched as you pleased yourself. It wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar sight. You had done this countless times before, but never with the voice of a man guiding you, especially Spencer—the last person you’d imagine doing this with.
Yet look at how much effect he had on you.
"You're quiet," his voice suddenly came through. "Are you still with me?"
"Yes," you managed to whisper. "It's just... a lot."
"In a good way, I hope?"
“Very good,” you assured him.
You could practically picture the corner of his lips twitching into a proud smile. “Good,” he recited. “Now try adding another finger.”
You couldn't help a moan escaping your lips as you pushed in your middle finger, the sound louder than you intended.
"How does that feel?"
"Full," you breathed out, adjusting to the sensation.
“Yeah? I bet you’re so tight.”
You were, awfully so. Your walls clenched around your fingers, almost swallowing them as you started to move them in a steady rhythm. The pleasure built in your lower stomach, a warm, coiling tension that made you desperate for more. You needed his voice, you craved his guidance, even from afar.
“Spence…” you whined. “Keep talking, please.”
“You want me to describe how I’d touch you if I were there?”
You moaned in response, the sound escaping your lips involuntarily, urging him to continue.
“If I were there,” he began, his voice low, “I’d start by kissing you slowly.”
You could almost feel it, his lips on yours, his tongue probing inside your mouth.
“I’d move lower,” he continued. “Kiss your neck, your collarbone… while my fingers would move along your hips, your thighs, getting closer and closer to where you need me most.”
You whimpered, your fingers moving faster as you followed his vivid description, imagining his touch guiding you.
“I’d tease you, brush my fingers right at your entrance,” he whispered. “Then, I’d slip them inside you, just like you’re doing now.”
Your breaths came in short gasps.
“I’d spread your legs wide,” he continued again, and you heard a faint rustling noise in the background. “I’d move my fingers in… and… out...”
Your legs fell further apart.
“I’d curl my fingers the same way I did that day,” he went on. “Do you remember?”
How could you not? It never truly left your mind. You could picture that day clearly, the feeling of his fingers and mouth working on your sensitive spot seemed to linger in your memory.
“I’d do the same thing that you like,” he proceeded, and you focused on his voice. “I’d lean in close… licking you… sucking you.”
You moaned loudly as the image of his mouth on your clit flashed through your mind. You could almost feel the way he would sloppily lap at you, drinking in every drop of your arousal with each eager flick of his tongue.
“Go faster for me,” he urged. “I-I want to hear how wet you are.”
You followed his words, and the slick sounds of your arousal filled the quiet around you as you imagined him there, his fingers replacing yours. You could hear more noise through the line, the subtle rustle of clothes moving, the faint sound of his breathing growing heavier before he let out a low grunt.
“You make the prettiest sounds,” he breathed out. “Now add another finger.”
Your eyes narrowed into a frown, trying to slip a third finger in but the stretch was too intense for you to continue. “I-I can’t.”
“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed. “Just take it slow. Try to relax.”
You took a deep breath, trying to follow his instructions. You slowly eased in another finger, feeling the awkward stretch but the initial discomfort quickly faded into a deeper pleasure, and you moaned softly.
“Oh, fuck.”
“There you go,” he encouraged. “Feel that? Feel how full you are?”
You hummed a reply.
“That’s how I want you to feel when I’m finally inside you.”
A whine left your lips. In your head, you saw him, his body poised above yours, his cock sliding smoothly into you. You imagined the slick, rhythmic motion, the way each thrust would fill you, stretching you, overwhelming you. You cried out a filthy moan at the thought, unabashed and desperate, as you began to pump your fingers inside your cunt.
“Push deeper for me… I know you can take it.”
You gasped, pushing your fingers as deep as they could go. “I can’t… I need… oh…”
“I know, I know,” he whispered. “You need more. You need me inside you, don’t you?”
“Spencer, please…” you begged, your voice breaking into desperate, choked sobs.
“You want that? You want to feel me stretch you?”
“Yes, yes…” you managed to moan out, your movements became more desperate.
“God, you’d be so tight around me… I’d have your legs spread wide so I… I-I could see how perfect you’d take me.”
You could almost feel his hands on your hips, his body pressing against yours, filling you completely. Your fingers moved frantically, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you felt the tension building to an unbearable peak.
“You’d pull me closer, wouldn’t you? You’d ask for more, like you always do, and I’d give it to you,” he promised. “I’d give it to you so hard… s-so deep…”
And that was when you heard it—the unmistakable sound of wetness, like skin sliding over slick, damp skin. The sound was filthy, making your pulse race as you wondered what he might be doing on the other end of the line. Your voice trembled as you slowly asked him, “Spence, are you…?”
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end before he let out a soft, almost sheepish laugh, as if you had caught him red-handed. “I… yeah,” he admitted, his voice breathless and strained. "Do you know how hard it is not to when listening to your voice?"
Your fingers subconsciously quickened at his confession, their movements becoming more urgent as you imagined him laying on his own bed, hand wrapped around his cock. You bit your lip to stifle your moans as you whispered, “Tell me what you’re doing.”
His breathing grew ragged, his words coming in clipped bursts. “I’m… I’m touching myself…”
You tried to focus on his voice, but the sound of his sloppy strokes began to echo louder. “Tell me more.”
“I’m… I’m rubbing… my fingers over the head,” he gasped, and you curled your fingers deeper, using your palm to grind against your clit. The way he sounded so lost in his pleasure, unable to hold back, had you imagining him stroking himself. You pictured yourself doing it for him, remembering how it felt that day when you had his cock in your hand—the weight, the warmth, the way he looked at you through intense eyes.
Your breathing grew heavier, louder, and his voice cracked with a strained moan as he whispered, “Can you lower your phone?”
You fumbled with the device, bringing it closer to where your fingers worked tirelessly between your legs. “Like this?”
“God, yes,” he groaned, the sound of his strokes growing faster and more urgent. “You sound so perfect.”
You let out a soft cry, your fingers thrusting in and out of your cunt frantically as you imagined him watching you, listening to every sound you made. The wet, slick noises filled the room, so intense and filthy. You looked down to see your juices spilling over your fingers, soaking the sheets beneath you. The sheer sound of it was enough to drive him crazy.
“I—f-faster, please,” he panted into the phone. “I need you to go faster.”
Your eyes widened for a moment as the desperate plea slipped from his lips. But you didn’t have the mental space to think about it. Your focus was solely on reaching your release as you ultimately sped up your pace. Your body began to tighten up, feeling so much pressure and pleasure building up every time your fingertips hit that deep spot inside you.
"Oh—fuck!” You exhaled sharply as the familiar sensation took over you. “I’m cumming I’m cumming I’m cumming—”
With a cry that was both a sob and a shout, your pussy fluttered around your fingers. Your orgasm ripped through you without warning, sending shockwaves of intense pleasure through your body as you gasped and shuddered. Your voice escaped in broken moans and whines, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.
“Spencer… oh, God, Spencer…”
The sound of your climax drove him to his own release. His breath hitched, his movements faltering as he let out a harsh sound from his throat. It was raw and unrestrained, downright filthy, and you listened intently, your fingers slipping out only to circle and rub your clit, drawing out the final waves of your orgasm.
Finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, your hand fell away, and you lay there, breathing heavily, your body relaxing into the bed. Your room was quiet afterward, the only sound coming from was the sound of your own breathing. Then you heard him calling out your name, checking in. But through the post-orgasmic bliss, all you could manage in response was a giggle.
“You’re… laughing?” He mused. “Should I be concerned?”
“No, no,” you replied, still catching your breath, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. “It’s just… I can’t believe we did that.”
A gentle laugh escaped his lips, a warm, soothing sound that calmed your racing heart. "Did you like it?"
You liked it a lot. "Can’t say that I didn’t.”
"So I take it you're not mad at me anymore?"
You let out a soft, contented sigh. “I wasn’t even that mad to begin with. Just… frustrated,” you confessed. “But I think we handled that pretty well.”
“Maybe a little too well,” he agreed softly. “I can't believe I need to take a shower this late.”
You looked down between your legs at his words, and a wave of embarrassment washed over you as you noticed the patch of wetness on your bed. It wasn't small—it spread across the fabric in a noticeable, damp stain. “Uh, yeah,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “I also need to change my sheets.”
Then you heard a low, almost pained groan from his end of the line.
“What?”
“It’s just…” He paused, and you could almost hear him struggling to find the right words. "I'm now picturing you on your bed."
"Isn't that what you've been doing?"
"Well, yes, but now it's… different."
You couldn't help the amused grin that spread across your face. "Different how?"
"Let's just say the image in my mind is a lot more detailed now and it's not helping me calm down."
A burst of laughter erupted from your chest as you gripped your phone closer to you. “Is this your way of blaming me because you still have a hard-on?” you taunted. “I mean, I’m simply stating the facts.”
“But you’re painting a picture in my head.”
“Of me drenching the sheets just by hearing your voice?”
He made a low, strained sound. “Stop.”
“I can send you a picture if you like,” you offered slyly. “Help you visualize it better.”
There was a moment of stunned silence on his end before he finally muttered, “You shouldn’t.”
“You’re right, I shouldn’t.”
“But if you insist…”
You laughed softly. “Good night, Spencer.”
“Wait—You’re hanging up?”
“Yep,” you said cheerfully. “I thought you needed a shower.”
He made another frustrated sound, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, before reluctantly agreeing. “Fine, fine. Good night.”
And that was it. You ended the call with a satisfied smile. But as you stared at your phone, a rush of thoughts began to swirl through your mind. You were well aware of the potential risks of what you were about to do—how it could be traced back to you. You could almost hear Penelope lecturing you about online security and the dangers of leaving a digital footprint.
But when your mind kept circling back to Spencer—Spencer’s breathless voice, Spencer’s prominent veins on his hands, Spencer with a freaking hard-on in his bed—it was hard to think rationally. Before you could stop yourself, you propped your phone on your pillow and posed for the camera. Legs spread wide, your nipples pressing against your shirt, a flirtatious smile playing on your lips. The shot looked like it came out of a porno movie. You quickly sent it to him.
It took exactly 7 seconds before your phone rang again.
“Yes, Spencer?” you answered, trying to sound innocent.
You heard shuffling and a muffled grunt, and then, faintly, the rustling of fabric. It sounded like he was fumbling with his phone, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip at the frustration in his voice.
“How do I turn this into video call again?”
Can we have a round of applause for the chain here
lu coded tumblr gifs and pics, here u go :) nsfw and sfw
mornings together :3
the curls <3 that is literally him
omfg
morning kisses
pic he has of u
making out
mmmm
holding hands while u fuck >.<
just imagineee
cuddling entangled in each other
his hand on ur thigh
soooo him
playing with ur nipples
him picking you up like this mm
making breakfast together
ohhh this is def how he’d be w u
my fav ugh how he’d grip u while u dry hump + those biceps are so himmmm
ugh need
gripping your ass
how he’s got you underneath him as he pounds u into the mattress mm
shower sex fuck this is himmm
him all over u while u make out😣
yes pls
straddling him in lingerie on his bday
holding u close while u ride him
cuddling on top of him :3
maybe my fav gif so far fuckk
intimate shower sex
spooning
straddling him like this oh my god
perfect
so passionate
him loving on ur body :3
the morning after omg
ur desperate for each other at a party
no words😔
him fucking the attitude out of u
this is exactly how lu would be :’( need
beauty mark!!
🥺 the watch
need need need
the watch so lu coded
taking a bath together like this omg
making out in his gaming chair oh my
chilling together ;)
:’) <3
him washing u in the shower
reading together :)
ur engagement ring
after u shower together
boyfriend!hotch
Luigi Mangione FanFics that are really good as I find new fics I will update as I go along to keep it up to date for you as of now it’s all good new fic is added
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